Strange Bedfellows
by kysis-the-bard
Summary: Tony Stark has never been good at keeping his hands to himself, especially when it involves his own bed. This time, he may have gotten more than he bargained for.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything Marvel.

**Warnings:** two men with one another. Sarcasm. Heavily suggestive.

**Author's Note:** This is from an anonymous request on Tumblr, where someone specifically asked for: "How about some Tony/Loki morning/sleepysex?" I think I may have taken this… in a slightly different directly. Hopefully it suffices. It's been forever since I've actually written smut, so I'm working my way up to it.

**Strange Bedfellows**

Tony had never been good at keeping his hands to himself, especially when it involved his own bed. It didn't matter how far away he was from the person, eventually he would end up touching, pushing boundaries, bursting bubbles.

So when a battered, exhausted Loki teleported into his penthouse and staggered to his bed, claiming it like his own, Tony should have let him. Tony should have raised his hands, conceded, and just slept on the couch. It was comfortable enough. Or gone to his garage. There were a few projects he could work on, though he was dead tired from testing out the Mark VII all day.

It was his bed. He didn't like people taking his stuff. And, he was never good at respecting boundaries.

His hands found something soft, cool in the darkness. He turned his head. The cool light of the arc reactor gave subtle forms to everything in the room, but not quite enough to see by.

What was cool and soft in his bed?

Hitched breathing next to him was the only sound. Tony couldn't see anything, just dark hair, maybe a sliver of pale skin. And the cold. He shivered, even though he was mostly covered by silk sheets. He hadn't let his window open.

"Jarvis—"

A slender, frigid finger pressed to his lips, hushing him immediately.

He knew that hand. It'd gripped his neck moments before he was thrown out of a window. His own hand was holding something else entirely.

Cold limbs slipped closer, then over him, straddling him. Hadn't Loki been in full armor when he collapsed on the bed? If Tony remembered correctly—he did, because he hadn't been nearly drunk enough last night—he was, and was pretty scuffed up too, but that face, that chiseled, pale face, was absolutely flawless, wounds vanishing into nothingness.

Tony swallowed roughly. He wasn't wearing his bracelets. He looked to the bedside table. Nothing. His heart thundered in his chest. Tony stared up, lips pulled into a distinct frown, which he was sure was all the more visible because of his goatee. Either that, or Loki could see in the dark, which he seriously didn't doubt.

"What are you—"

"I believe you are the one who started this." Loki's words were barely a breath, dark and rolling and entirely too sultry. The god smirked, running his fingers down Tony's neck, along the artery which pulsed noticeably, then to the arc reactor. That smirk only grew. If it was possible, Loki's gaze looked even more malicious than usual.

"Really?"

"You have not been able to keep your hands off me the entire night." He circled the reactor with his chill fingers, feathering them over his skin, then over the reactor itself.

"Yeah, about that, I didn't mean—"

Lips, thin and firm, swallowed his words. A tongue like a piece of ice slid in his mouth, probing. Tony laid petrified, shaking, as Loki explored his mouth. He could feel both the god's hands on his chest, around the reactor. Those fingers, deft and too skilled, turned it, sliding the reactor out just slightly.

Tony gasped, shoving upward. Loki dropped the reactor back into place, pinning his arms all in one swift movement.

"Jarvis—"

Loki silenced him again, smirking again when he finally pulled up. "I thought you enjoyed danger."

"I also enjoy living."

"Just a little fun." Loki fingered the reactor again, tauntingly. Tony knew his blood pressure was way too high already, and if Loki tried taking it out again. "And it would be no fun if I just killed you."

"Is that your definition of kinky?"

A small laugh growled from Loki's lips. He lifted the reactor again, lifting it softly up and down a few times, suggestively, not breaking eye contact once.

It was going to be one hell of a night.


End file.
